yes, no matter how bad the news/interwebs/rioting mobs suggest things might have gotten, there always seems to be enough rogue capital to allow 30-40 people a chance to climb every day and chillax every night at miguel’s. and by chillax i mean drink beer, smoke generic cigarettes, and play bob marley songs on an out-of-tune acoustic guitar. *hey brah, can you please play redemption song…… again?* in fact, if i were an economist i’d organize my entire prospective econometric on the number of beer bottles in the recycling bin out back. and based on my most recent study?:

we’re all gonna be fine. 2.7 billion thousand million empty beer bottles tell a story the so-called ‘experts’ have completely missed. *hiccup*

it’s a story of convictions. convictions to send. routes. and then later? drink beer. yes, when the going gets tough, the tough get going – to the red – to sport climb and make repeated (but totally necessary) runs to the beer store.

it’s a story of training. getting in 10-15 pitches. climbing until your skin is on fire and your body feels like refried poo, and then rolling by the beer store so you can head to miguel’s for a little r and r. and by r and r i mean beer, and, of course, going to bed dirty.

but mostly it’s a story about not giving up. unless, of course, it’s really scary. then you just yell take and go bolt to bolt. later, after a few beers, you can recount in harrowing detail the 35′ whipper you almost (but didn’t quite) take.